


Kiss Me Now (Kiss Me Forever)

by pendragonally



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banter, Boys Kissing, Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Set between series 03 and 04, but not really, the author does not know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonally/pseuds/pendragonally
Summary: When is a love spell not a love spell? When it’s just Arthur trying (and failing) to express his feelings— not that Merlin knows this, of course. Figuring it out leads to more than one revelation.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 464





	Kiss Me Now (Kiss Me Forever)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SirensS0ng](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirensS0ng/gifts).



> Hello everyone! It's me again!
> 
> I'm back with another fic, this is my first attempt at writing canon so I apologise if it's not up to the standard you're used to. Not beta-read, so please excuse any mistakes. I hope this isn't too OOC- I tried my best.  
> Please enjoy ♡

*****

Arthur is acting weird.

Merlin can’t quite put his finger on it right now, it’s perhaps too early in the day to be completely sure of anything but still, Merlin likes to think that he knows Arthur well enough by now to be able to confidently discern when something isn't quite right.

And something is most definitely _wrong_. 

Take right now for example, Merlin entered Arthur’s chambers only moments ago, to find that not only is Arthur awake and out of bed, he’s actually _dressed_ (has his tunic on the right way round, tucked in properly and everything) and is gazing at Merlin with an open fondness that makes Merlin warm all over after having asked him to _join him for breakfast_.

Since when does Arthur Pendragon share his breakfast with anyone?

“Merlin, stop looking at me like I’ve suddenly grown two heads and join me would you?” Arthur’s voice shakes Merlin from his stupor, and he has to bite his lip hard to keep his mouth from dropping open when Arthur adds a quiet, almost unsure, “Please.”

He half wonders if Arthur is being so pleasant with him now because he has some particularly nasty chore lined up for him later.

It’s not that Arthur is never nice to him, of course, most of the time they get along almost alarmingly well, but the prince being so softly spoken with him first thing in the morning? Most certainly falls under the category of things labelled _weird_.

Not one to seem ungrateful however, Merlin gives Arthur a small smile and drops down into the empty seat that is offered to him with a nod.

He eats quietly, keeps his eyes focused on his plate and tries to ignore the way he _knows_ his ears are growing warm when he feels Arthur’s gaze on him.

It’s a little unnerving honestly, but he can’t quite place why.

“Merlin,”

“Yes, sire?” Merlin asks when Arthur doesn't offer anything further.

Silence follows for a few moments. Merlin pours himself a goblet of water with shaking hands. “How long have you been my servant?”

“A few years,” Merlin says, heart giving a worried little shiver at just how serious Arthur sounds. He wonders if he’s in some kind of trouble, if he’s done something wrong. “Arthur— _sire_ , have I done something to upset you?” he meets Arthur’s eyes and wonders, not for the first time, why the Gods decided to make them so impossibly _blue_. “You’re not sacking me, are you?”

Arthur looks shocked at that, eyes growing wide as he shakes his head. “No Merlin, of course not, it’s just—“

“Just what?”

“Is it enough for you?” This time, it is Arthur who can no longer meet Merlin’s gaze, stares instead at the table, fingers drawing restless circles over the dark wood. “Are you happy being my servant?”

It’s a little heartbreaking, really, the troubled expression on Arthur’s face, and before he can stop to question what he’s doing Merlin pushes out of the chair, steps around to where Arthur is sitting and crouches down beside him. “I’m happy to be your servant, until the day I die.”

It’s not the first time he’s spoken these words, knows Arthur remembers as well as he does, but this time it doesn’t seem to ease Arthur the way it did before, and Merlin silently curses Uther for instilling so much deep-rooted insecurity into his only son.

“Arthur what is it, what’s the matter?” Merlin asks, daring to rest a hand on Arthur’s knee, surprised but pleased when Arthur doesn’t so much as flinch let alone push him away.

The silence, the tension in the room is tangible, almost oppressive it weighs so heavily against Merlin’s chest. “I can’t do this Merlin, I can’t keep pretending—" Arthur shakes his head, frowns as his shoulders slump like he’s suddenly bearing the weight of the whole world. “I’m in danger, or at least my—"

Arthur trails off, a frustrated groan sounding low in his throat and Merlin suddenly wonders if he’s fallen into one of his own daydreams because seconds later Arthur is leaning down and kissing him full on the mouth.

It’s awkward in more ways than one, the angle is off from where Arthur has to twist around to reach Merlin, who is still crouched next to him and has to grip Arthur’s leg with both hands to keep from toppling over. Their noses bump and Merlin has no idea what he’s doing but Arthur’s mouth is soft and warm and all he’s been secretly wanting for longer than he can even remember.

The world is spinning and Merlin feels dizzy, lightheaded in a way that makes him sure he’s about to either pass out or float away entirely.

It’s a shame when reality rushes back in, slaps him so hard in the face he physically recoils from the shock of it.

“Arthur what is _wrong_ with you today?” Merlin stumbles to his feet, almost topples over backwards in his haste to put some distance between him and his prince. “You can’t just _do_ things like that, you can’t just tell me you’re in danger and then kiss me like— like you haven’t just told me somebody is threatening your life.”

_You can’t just kiss me like you want me when I know you don’t._

“You misunderstand me,” Arthur too gets to his feet, hurt passing across his face like a shadow when he takes a step closer to Merlin only for Merlin to take several more steps away. “Clearly this is not going to end the way I’d hoped and I apologise for kissing you without asking permission first but I’m not a coward so— Merlin it’s not my life that’s in danger, not literally anyway, it’s my _heart_.”

“Your heart?”

Arthur nods once. “Yes. My heart.”

“I don’t understand,”

“It has been kept hidden away for too long and now,” Arthur takes a deep breath, lets the rest of his words out in a rush. “Well now it’s in danger of breaking if I don’t tell you how much I’ve always loved you so here I am— I love you, Merlin.”

Realisation slaps Merlin hard on the opposite cheek to reality. It stings, makes his throat burn and his eyes fill with tears. “You’ve been enchanted!” he blurts, lets concern hold his bleeding heart together until he gets back to Gaius’ chamber to bandage the wound properly.

A love spell, another bloody love spell- Arthur is enchanted, _again_.

Now Merlin isn’t going to lie to himself by pretending that he doesn’t think Arthur is gorgeous in every way humanly possible or that he hasn’t been secretly harbouring feelings for his prince for more seasons than he’ll ever admit but the fact that people keep resorting to magic to try and gain Arthur’s favour is _really_ starting to get on Merlin’s nerves.

Partly because Arthur being under the influence of a love spell makes him do the most _ridiculous_ things — like professing his undying love to _Merlin_ of all people — and especially because it’s always Merlin’s job to find a way to break said enchantment.

He doesn’t even know where to start this time, because Arthur’s behaviour is _strange_ , even for one who has been enchanted. Almost genuine, for as impossible as he knows that is.

But Arthur’s actions don’t usually make Merlin feel hollow like this, numb aside from the aching in his heart. His stupid, stupid heart that fell in love with possibly the most unattainable person in the whole of Camelot.

“Merlin I am _not_ enchanted—" Arthur starts but Merlin isn’t listening, already mentally listing the books he’s going to need to look through to find a cure.

“Don’t worry sire!” Merlin shouts, rushing to the door before Arthur can try to stop him. “I’ll find a cure and you’ll be back to normal before you know it!”

The moment the door for Arthur’s chambers slams shut behind him Merlin breaks into a run, heart pounding to a wild new rhythm despite the crack through the middle of it because _Arthur kissed him_.

Enchantment be damned, Merlin knows he’s going to treasure that single embrace for the rest of his life.

*****

Merlin spends the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon pouring over a pile of books that Gaius gathered for him when he told the physician his suspicions of Arthur falling prey to magic, again.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding all day?” a voice breaks the silence that has been Merlin’s companion since Gaius left to do his daily rounds earlier and he looks up from the thick book he’s been staring at for so long the words are starting to blur to see Arthur standing just inside the doorway.

Standing just inside the doorway clutching what appears to be wildflowers— Arthur has brought _flowers_. “I haven’t been hiding,” Merlin scoffs to hide the way he feels suddenly fluttery inside, like he’s swallowed butterflies and they’re currently filling up his stomach. “I’ve been trying to find a way to break whatever enchantment you’re under before you can do any more damage.”

“Are you saying that my kissing you has damaged you in some way?” Arthur’s voice is firm but he looks stricken. “I didn’t mean to cause distress Merlin, I was just trying to show you—" Arthur trails off as he strides further into the room and clumsily thrusts the pastel pink, blue and purple blooms at him. “I brought you flowers. I gathered them myself when I went for a ride earlier this afternoon. I thought— I _hoped_ you’d like them.”

Merlin sighs, clutches the flowers to his chest despite himself. “I do like them Arthur, they’re beautiful honestly, but—"

“I really want to kiss you again,”

Merlin’s throat goes dry and his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth.

“Arthur, I really can’t let you do that,”

“You can’t?”

Merlin shakes his head and silently apologises to his heart for denying it the very thing it has been yearning for, for what seems like an age. “I can’t, because when I find a way to break the spell you’ll be furious with me and I’d rather not have to deal with one of your bad moods.”

“Merlin how many times do I have to say it? I’m not under any spell!”

“If that’s true then why did you tell me you love me? Answer me that,” Merlin isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. “What other reason would you have for kissing me— for wanting to kiss me again?”

“Have you ever considered for a second that I might actually _be_ in love with you?” Arthur sounds exasperated and annoyed. Merlin knows the feeling.

“Don’t be ridiculous,”

“What do I have to do to prove it to you?” Arthur asks, and the open desperation in his face makes Merlin consider again, why this love spell seems so different from the others.

Arthur is focused, his eyes sharp instead of glazed over the way they usually are under the effects of this type of magic. He’s determined but not pushy, quietly hopeful instead of making outlandish, embarrassing gestures in public.

Everything is strange but Merlin can’t for the life of him think what else could cause Arthur to behave this way other than powerful magic.

“Merlin,”

“Here,” Merlin interrupts, grabs a small bottle from Gaius’ worktable and offers it to Arthur. “If you really love me, you’ll drink all of it.”

If Arthur isn’t enchanted he’ll roll his eyes, call him an idiot and refuse to so much as take the bottle from him. What actually happens, unfortunately, is the complete opposite.

Arthur takes the bottle without complaint, downs the liquid in one go and doesn’t even complain about the taste. “There. Now do you believe me?”

“That you’re enchanted? Yes, completely.” Merlin drops the flowers he’d still been clutching onto the table and ignores the way it stings to know without doubt that none of this is _real_ . Arthur doesn’t want him, doesn’t _love_ him. Never has, never will. “That bottle could have contained a deadly poison for all you know and you just _drank it_. The Arthur I know wouldn’t do that because you think I’m useless and stupid and were you in your right mind you would never listen to me. Luckily for you it was just a harmless tonic to help ease headaches.”

“I don’t really _mean_ any of the insults I throw at you — I thought you knew that. It’s just me being a — what’s the word you like to use? A clotpole.” Arthur looks truly ashamed of himself and Merlin swears the butterflies in his stomach just turned into stones. “I drank it because you _asked_ me to, Merlin, because I trust you and I know that you would never do anything to intentionally cause me harm, because I—"

“Don’t,” Merlin cuts him off. “Please Arthur, don’t say it again.”

 _My heart can’t take it_.

Arthur relents then, and Merlin wonders if the ache in his chest is visible through his eyes. “Clearly I have spoken out of turn and for that I apologise. Please excuse me.”

The formal way he speaks, so distant and almost cold, has Merlin wishing he could take everything back and tell Arthur how much he _feels_ for him and it hurts to know that he can’t.

“Arthur,” he calls anyway, but his prince is already leaving.

Arthur doesn’t look back and Merlin doesn’t try to stop him; he’s never _hated_ magic before, but right now what he feels is definitely something close.

*****

Under the guise of running errands for Gaius, Merlin doesn't attend to Arthur for the rest of the day, instead he spends hours sitting just inside the treeline at the edge of the forest, hidden from view and making fallen leaves dance around each other with his magic.

As evening draws closer and the sky darkens in the wake of the setting sun, Merlin shivers, draws his knees up and wraps his arms around them and tries not to think about the day he’s had.

Merlin is exhausted despite having not done all that much other than collect a bag full of herbs, and out here among the trees he can allow himself to be melancholy, can let the tears that he’s been holding back since Arthur first said I love you finally spill.

He’s not sure he has the right to be crying, but once he’s started he can’t seem to stop, buries his face in his knees and _sobs_ because he just doesn't understand why any of this is happening.

Why would somebody bewitch Arthur to think that he’s in love with _Merlin_? Or perhaps the joke is on Merlin; maybe somebody has discovered his feelings for Arthur and is using a love spell to tear at all the soft, vulnerable places inside him that he hadn’t really known existed until he met Arthur.

Either way he hopes Gaius finds a remedy soon because this is a torture he’s not sure he can endure much more of. If Arthur tells him that he loves him one more time he might actually crumble and do something unforgivable like shout “ _I love you too, why can’t this be real?”_

“I thought I might find you out here,” he startles at the sound of Gwen’s voice beside him, rubs hastily at his tear-stained face when he looks up and sees the sympathy shining bright in her dark eyes. “Oh Merlin. This is because of Arthur isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing,” Merlin has always been a terrible liar. “I’m just tired that’s all.”

“Being tired has got you hiding out here all day? Nonsense,” Gwen sits next to him, rubs at his arm affectionately. Merlin almost starts crying again. “Gaius told me what happened, Merlin, what makes you think that Arthur has been enchanted?”

“Because when I went to his chambers this morning he kissed me and told me he loved me,”

Gwen sighs. “Have you ever thought that maybe Arthur actually really does love you?”

“That’s what he said but of course not,” Merlin laughs, hollow and bitter. “I’m his servant and nothing more. Usually it’s not so bad, I’m used to concealing my feelings for him but today just— it _hurts_ , Gwen, to hear him say things I’ve been dreaming of him saying for so long when none of it is _real_.”

“Merlin,”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying these things to you,” Merlin wipes his eyes again, forces a smile. “I know you’re happy with Lancelot now but… you had feelings for Arthur, once.”

“You can talk to me about anything, Merlin. My history with Arthur doesn’t matter, it’s in the past.” Gwen assures him, giving him the same warm smile that always makes him feel better. “Like you said, I’m happy, and you deserve to be too. You’ve always been so much more than a servant to Arthur and you know it. No other servant in Camelot can take the same liberties with him that you can.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean that Arthur loves me. When we break this enchantment I won’t be surprised if he sacks me again just so that he doesn't have to look at me,” Merlin tries for light-hearted but it’s impossible with a lump in his throat and his heart threatening to split in two. “He’ll be so ashamed, _angry_ —"

“Arthur isn’t enchanted, Merlin.” Gwen cuts his rambling short, fixes him with her most serious expression. “Gaius spoke to Arthur and he thinks the same as me.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“That, in his own way, Arthur is trying to court you.”

Merlin wants to laugh but the tears get there first and turn the sound into another sob. “I can’t hear anymore of this Gwen, I’m sorry.” He stands up, brushes off his clothes, grabs his bag and makes to leave. “I should get back to Gaius, he’ll be wondering where I am. Are you coming?”

Gwen clearly isn’t satisfied but she doesn’t press any further, just follows him quietly back to the city and hugs him briefly when they reach Gaius’ chambers. “Goodnight, Merlin. You know where I am if you need me.”

Bidding her goodnight and watching for a moment as she walks in the direction of home — of Lancelot — Merlin swallows down the hurt that he’ll never have that with Arthur and walks inside to find Gaius still hard at work with his potions and remedies.

“Ah, Merlin, I was beginning to wonder where you’d got to,” Gaius says in a way of greeting, choosing not to comment on Merlin’s red-rimmed eyes and no doubt blotchy face. “Arthur came by earlier, he left something for you in your room.”

Frowning and more confused than ever, Merlin simply nods, drops the herbs he gathered so that his day wasn’t a complete waste onto the table and heads straight to his room in silence.

It doesn’t take more than a single moment to realise what Gaius meant. There on the tiny wooden table beside his bed, are the wildflowers Arthur had brought him earlier, in water this time, rather than discarded on the table where Merlin left them in his haste to leave.

Merlin’s heart is in his throat as he bends to smell them, the delicate scent tickles his nose and he can’t help but smile a little. He touches his fingertips to the tiny, fragile petals, eyes widening in surprise when he notices a small, folded piece of parchment next to the flowers that definitely wasn’t there before.

Grabbing it and unfolding it quickly, Merlin reads the short note written in Arthur’s hand: _forgive me._

“Arthur,” Merlin mumbles, staring at the note that is so out of character for Arthur to write but at the same time _exactly_ like him too.

Parchment still in his hand, Merlin leaves his room to find Gaius stood there clearly waiting for him.

“I don’t understand, Gaius.” Merlin says, head spinning and heart skipping. “What’s going on? Why is Arthur behaving this way? Can you not find a cure for—"

“There is nothing to find a cure _for_ , Merlin.” Gaius tells him calmly, fatherly and fond. “Arthur isn’t acting this way because of a love spell, but because of love itself.”

Merlin shakes his head, still crippled by doubt. “It doesn’t make sense,”

“Perhaps not to you, but to me it makes perfect sense,” Gaius walks over to him, reaches up to squeeze his shoulders comfortingly. “My boy, Arthur is besotted with you and I _know_ you feel the same way so perhaps you should go and tell him that his affections are not unwanted.”

“And you’re sure that no form of magic has been used because honestly I’m not sure I could stand it,”

“I would bet my life on it,”

Hope flares to life in Merlin’s chest, wild and no longer able to be restrained. “I have to go,”

If Gaius says anything else Merlin doesn’t hear it, because he’s already out of the door and on his way to Arthur’s chambers. If what Gaius says is true then Merlin has spent the entire day rejecting Arthur’s feelings and if Arthur really _is_ in love with him then he can’t imagine how much that must hurt; he has to put this right, now.

“I thought you didn’t like furs to be laid by the fire,” Merlin comments when he quietly lets himself into Arthur’s chambers to find Arthur stretched out on winter furs and reclined against a couple of cushions that Merlin recognises to be from his bed. “Too much soot.”

Arthur’s mouth curves upwards in a gentle half smile. “I had one of the other servants set them out,” he bites his lip, looks a little unsure when he adds. “I thought it would be more comfortable. For you.”

“For me?” Merlin wonders if he sounds as dumb as he feels. “Why would you do this for me?”

Arthur’s cheeks colour a lovely shade of pink and he glances briefly at the fire crackling away merrily. “Well I’ve lost count of the times I’ve returned to my chambers to find you asleep in pretty much this exact spot and I know a cold stone floor can’t be comfortable so I thought this would help.”

“Arthur,” he looks beautiful like this, Merlin thinks, dressed in a loose white tunic and dark brown breeches, feet bare and toes curling into the soft furs.

Merlin has the inexplicable urge to cry again.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Merlin rushes to apologise, closing the door behind him and stepping further into the room. “For my behaviour and for not being here to attend to you today.”

“Forget about it,” Arthur nods towards the note still clutched in Merlin’s hand. “Does this mean I’m forgiven then?”

Taking a deep breath, Merlin strides over to Arthur and throws the parchment into the fire. “There is nothing to forgive, I think I misunderstood everything, Arthur.”

“Will you sit beside me?” Arthur asks quietly. “It's alright if you don’t share my feelings Merlin I just want—"

“Don’t be a prat, _sire_ , did you not hear a word I just said?” Merlin smiles in the hope that it will ease the uncertainty creasing Arthur’s forehead. “You’re really not enchanted,” Merlin whispers as he settles carefully next to Arthur, boldly tugging his boots off and setting them aside so that he doesn’t dirty the furs. He speaks more to himself than anything, but Arthur hears him anyway.

“I’m really not enchanted,” Arthur echoes softly, reaching between them to take one of Merlin’s hands in one of his own. “What had you so convinced that I was?”

Emboldened by the way Arthur squeezes his hand affectionately; Merlin dares to lie down on his back, head sinking into the soft cushion. “It was the only thing that made sense because—"

“What?”

“Because why else would you be offering your heart to me? To your idiot manservant who's just not worthy of it.” Merlin blinks back tears, rubs at his eyes with his free hand.

“That idiot manservant has saved my life more times than I can count. He’s loyal and brave, and I trust him more than anyone else I’ve ever known.” Arthur looks so earnest and open, soft in a way he’s never been with Merlin before. “Does that not make you worthy of my heart, Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head, wants to run and stay right where he is at the same time. “No. Not when I’m a—"

“A what, Merlin?” Arthur presses, reaching out when Merlin turns away, tilting Merlin’s face back towards him with fingers hooked beneath his jaw. “A man? A servant… a sorcerer?”

Merlin’s blood runs cold and the wave of panic that threatens to consume him must show on his face — or maybe it’s the way he immediately starts to tremble — because Arthur is grasping his wrist tightly before he can do more than sit up.

He wants to run— he wants to _escape_.

“Don’t bolt, please.” Arthur says gently, tries to tug Merlin back down beside him. “I swear you’re in no danger, Merlin. You’re safe here with me.”

“Y-you know about my magic?” Merlin’s voice wavers as he speaks, he feels cornered, trapped— wild. “How? W-when?”

“Not long, I swear to you. I came in one night and you were sleeping here by the fire. It was nothing but embers and you were clearly cold but before I could decide what to do about it you started mumbling in your sleep and well…” Arthur smiles a little, nods towards the fire. “Seconds later the fire looked a lot like it does now.”

Revealed by his own magic whilst he was _sleeping_ — somehow Merlin isn’t surprised and he laughs despite the fight-or-flight adrenaline still coursing through his body.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” Merlin asks, unable to believe he’s actually here in this moment, talking to Arthur about his magic of all things. “You must have been angry,”

“I was,” Arthur agrees, grabs Merlin’s hand again like he _knows_ he’s about to pull away. “But not in the way you think. Merlin, you know my father’s view on magic, you know I’ve been raised my whole life to see it as nothing but an evil, but you also know that I don’t always agree with my father. I was angry with you for lying, for keeping such a big — such an _important_ part of yourself a secret, but I was also angry with myself for not being someone you felt you could come to with this.”

“Arthur—" Merlin chokes up, can barely breathe much less speak, he's so overwhelmed. “I wanted to tell you about my magic but I just didn’t know how! I was born with it and I only ever use it for you Arthur,” he rushes to tell his prince. “Only for you.”

“I know, and it’s nice to hear you say it but Merlin, it would also be nice if you used your magic for _you_ sometimes too.” Arthur tells him gently, like he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing and shattering whatever it is that’s building between them. “You weren’t born for me alone—"

“What if I want to believe that I was?” Merlin interrupts, reaching out and curling timid fingers into the soft white of Arthur’s tunic sleeve and holding tightly. “Yes I’m my own person and my magic belongs to me but what if I want to believe that I was also born to be here with you right now, and my magic exists to help me protect you in ways nobody else can? What if it’s my—”

“Destiny?” Arthur finishes, and Merlin’s heart beats so fast he swears he can feel it tripping over itself.

“Destiny,” Merlin smiles, can’t help but shift closer to Arthur on the soft furs, barely refrains from pinching himself just to make sure he really _hasn’t_ just fallen asleep somewhere and this is all one big elaborate dream. “You really don’t hate me for my magic?” he asks because he knows the question will haunt him forever if he doesn't.

“Merlin I couldn’t hate you, or anything about you, even if I wanted to.” Arthur’s voice is thick like honey, heavy with promises. “I _love_ you. I love you with all my heart and I’ve spent these past weeks trying to figure out the best way to tell you about my feelings and that I knew of your magic. Clearly I’m terrible at courting so—"

“You’re not!” Merlin rushes to tell him. “I’m just an idiot. I was trying so hard to hide _my_ feelings from you that I didn’t even notice _your_ feelings.”

“Does that mean—"

“Does that mean do I love you too?” Merlin grins when Arthur nods and looks more bashful than ever. “Yes Arthur. I love you more than I thought possible when I first met you and you’re a cabbage-head if you think otherwise.”

“Not a cabbage-head, just a fool in love.”

Merlin laughs, completely besotted with the man before him. “Still sounds like cabbage-head to me,”

“Hm, maybe.” Arthur hums and Merlin can’t help but raise both eyebrows at him.

“Agreeing with me now, Arthur are you _sure_ you’re not enchanted?” Merlin jokes, but it falls a little flat when he sees the hurt flash in Arthur’s eyes for a split-second before it disappears.

“Not unless _you’ve_ enchanted me yourself, Merlin.” Arthur retorts and Merlin sighs in relief. The last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt Arthur and the familiarity of their bantering loosens the knot pulled tight inside him.

Merlin brushes Arthur’s golden hair back off of his face, smiling at the way it half falls back into place, half sticks up in several different directions. “I believe I have, sire,” he lets his hand come to rest against the side of Arthur’s face, thumb stroking gently over his flushed cheek. “But I didn’t need magic to do so, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Arthur leans close then, and Merlin can feel the warmth of him even through their clothes, sighs at the gentle weight of Arthur’s body on top of him like this. “Can I kiss you now?”

“You can kiss me forever,” Merlin blurts, but before he has the chance to feel embarrassed Arthur’s mouth is on his and Merlin absolutely does _not_ melt and he does _not_ swallow down a whimper when Arthur first guides Merlin’s hands to settle against his chest then wraps his arms around him in an intimate hold he’s never experienced before.

“Things will be different when I am king, I promise,” Arthur seals it against Merlin’s skin with presses of his lips across Merlin’s jaw that have his eyes fluttering closed and his breath catching in his chest. “You won’t have to hide from anyone. You’ll be exactly who you were born to be,”

Merlin lets his hands travel lower, down Arthur’s chest and stomach, fingers sliding beneath the loose material of Arthur’s tunic and touch along to the curve of his lower back and up over the bumps of his spine, a tentative journey that has him marvelling at the fact that he can _do_ this now.

In return Arthur is much more tactile than Merlin expects him to be, the hands of a warrior that he has seen wield weapons and break bones now tenderly caressing Merlin’s body slowly, carefully, as though Arthur is trying to commit the shape of him to memory by touch alone.

“Merlin— what’s happening?” It takes a moment for Merlin to come back to himself; so lost in touching Arthur and _being_ touched by him, however chaste those touches might be.

He opens his eyes and everything rushes back at once and just as he’s realising that Arthur’s chambers are illuminated by candlelight far brighter than it was moments ago, the room is then plunged into darkness except for the fire and he can smell smoke that _isn’t_ the fire.

“I— I think my magic…”

“Your magic lit all the candles at once and then put them all out?” Arthur is clearly trying not to laugh and Merlin rolls his eyes to hide how embarrassed he is.

“I was overwhelmed, okay!” Merlin cries, ears burning as much as his face. “Just be grateful that I didn’t shatter the windows or something!”

“That could happen?”

Merlin shrugs. “Maybe. I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Idiot, why on earth did I fall in love with you?” Arthur rolls his eyes and Merlin wants to hit him _and_ kiss him.

“Because I’m both handsome and charming,” Merlin grins, squeezing Arthur’s sides when he gives a rather undignified snort in response. “And I’m the only person in the five kingdoms capable of putting up with you.”

“In that case, will you stay?” Arthur fiddles with the knot of Merlin’s neckerchief until he can pull the material away and discard it. Merlin can’t suppress the shiver that runs through his entire body when Arthur kisses down the newly exposed skin of his throat and collarbones. “I think I’d like you to put up with me a little longer than usual tonight. Is that alright?”

Merlin nods and pulls Arthur back up to him. “It’s more than alright.”

“Good.”

“Then… can I kiss you now?” Merlin asks in echo of Arthur’s earlier words, crooking his fingers underneath Arthur’s chin and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the pink swell of his plush bottom lip.

“Merlin,” Arthur looks more handsome than ever somehow, bathed in both shadow and firelight. “You can kiss me forever.”

Merlin can feel Arthur smile against his mouth when their lips meet in a kiss much deeper than before. It tastes like sunlight and laughter, like home—

Kissing Arthur tastes like _destiny_.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought and thank you so much for reading! ♡


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